Made in the USA
by Kyrrkhenen
Summary: Fem! America hears more than anyone assumes. Follow her triumphs-and her failures- as she copes with a changing world and changing countries.
1. The Fourth Day of the Seventh Month

America laughed and cheered as fireworks lit up the sky.

Sparks fell from the heavens, illuminating her sky-blue eyes. She danced in the fiery rain, grabbing smoking sparklers from everyone nearby and thrusting them to the night sky.

_A shooting star dazzles everyone around it, then fizzles to the Earth in defeated glory._

Britain watched her from the back of the crowd.

Every year, whether he liked it or not, America would get a hold of his planner and mark the Fourth of July in red, white, and blue crayon all over the July page.

Every year, whether he liked it or not, he would end up standing in the back of a screaming crowd, watching America celebrate her independence.

Every year, he wondered. How could America be so happy now? Didn't she still hear the cannon fire and gunshots echoing in his mind? Did she not remember her raw feet tracking blood in the snow?

What about him, the greatest empire on Earth, breaking down and sobbing right in front of her?

Years had passed since then, but he still had the scars from those awful eight.

America turned her head in his direction. Britain ducked down into the seething mass of people, keeping his eyes downcast. Had she seen him?

No. America just kept on weaving through the rave, twirling and kicking her feet.

Britain faced away from her. He took one step, then another, then another. Soon, he was walking away from her, walking away from what had fought so hard to keep.

He wouldn't sleep that much tonight. And unlike so many times before, he knew he couldn't blame the boom of the fireworks.


	2. Suspicion

The next day, the World Meeting came to order, or as close to order as it ever would be.

Basically, everyone was screaming obscenities at each other. When you put about twenty-odd countries in a cramped, bare room in the middle of summer, this is the closest to cozy as you can possibly get.

"Germany! Germany! Look at Greece's kitty! Isn't it cuuuute?"

"Give me back the kitty."

"And that's why my air conditioners are better than that America's could ever be, aru!"

"I will kill you all. After I invade your countries."

"Tinker Bell! Dear Lord, it's been awhile. How are the Lost Boys?"

"Everyone! Get your papers togezher, and I mean NOW!" Germany's voice carried over the din. All the countries gradually piped down and settled into a state that behaved more or less like a mouse on steroids—better than usual.

"Hold on, aru." China glanced around at the countries. "America isn't here yet, and she was supposed to host this meeting."

"Vell, zis meeting was supposed to be undervay about fifteen minutes ago, so I suppose ve vill have to go on vithout—"

"DUUUUUUUDES! Augh, my freakin' head…man, it hurts…" America stumbled in, interrupting the gathering. She leaned against the wall for a moment, then managed to meander over to her chair.

"You're rate," Japan remarked crossly.

"Sorry, Japan, dude. 'Cuz, yesterday was my independence day and all, and there was this party and I stayed up a little too late…"

_You were drunk, _everyone groaned inwardly.

"Vell, America, it's good you're here now," Germany sighed. "Now, I believe you said you vould have a presentation for us?

America blinked blankly, until a spark of recognition broke through her hangover.

"OOOOH YEEEAAAAH! 'Bout that…I was planning to save that for the last minute, but I never got around to it, soooo…I…don't…have…it?"

Germany looked like he was about to burst a vein.

Since there was nothing to distract the countries from their ADHD, the meeting gradually fell into shambles. It was finally dismissed when Russia decided it would be a good idea to toss a chair out a window. A closed one.

Britain finally managed to make it out of the building. He sighed and wiped his brow, already sweating from the intense heat.

Suddenly, something poked him in the back.

Britain spun around on his heels, almost falling over. He found himself face-to-face with the pouting face of America.

"A-America!" he stammered. "You almost gave me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that, silly girl! What did you need from me?"

Her sky-blue eyes narrowed.

"Yesterday. At the party. You were there."

"What? I had no knowledge of a party, or any such thing!" Britain could feel his heart rising in his throat. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Cut the crap and stop lying, British dude. I saw you. I—saw—you."

Britain cleared his throat and took a short breath.

"You must have been mistaking me for someone else." He was thrilled that his voice was steady and convincing. "I wouldn't be anywhere near one of those drunken gatherings you call a 'party'."

With that, he faced his back to her and quickly walked away.

As he strode away from her, he heard America calling after him, still standing in place.

"You were there, tryin' to crash the party! I know it was you! Even if you say it wasn't!"

**A/N: Second chapter, yeah! And America is suspicious. Oooooo.**

**Anyway, this is my first fanfiction, and my writing skills are rusty, so apologies if some parts are fuzzy. Next update soon. Please review, comments and criticism are welcome, of course.**


	3. Parties and Red Sunflowers

A week had passed since the end of the last World Meeting. America sat in her office chair, "Highway to Hell" blaring out of an old radio, papers askew.

She put her head down on the desk.

_Paperwork sucks, _she thought. _Stupid boss. It's way too freakin' hot to do anything, doesn't he know that?_

The incident with Britain kept replaying in her mind like an old broken record. America had confronted Britain with not a shred of real evidence—just memories and shadows illuminated by bursts of fireworks. She had seen him…hadn't she? Or was it just the booze she saw?

And why, just why, _did _she care so much if he was there, anyway?

Maybe it was because she still remembered how she had brought him down that day. Perhaps, just perhaps, Britain had shown up to try and re-inflict painful memories. It was his way of getting even with what she had caused him, back in the eighteenth century.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a vibrating iPhone (officially contraband while doing paperwork, according to her boss). A text bubble lit up the screen.

_Ciao America! Prussia and France and Spain and I are going out tonight and they want to know if you want to come! –Italy (the northern)_

America perked one eyebrow. The Bad Touch Trio…and Italy? This couldn't be good.

_Who arranged this, dude? _She texted back.

_Big Brother France. _

Barf. No way. Was that guy still after her? America's fingers hovered over the screen. If she went out with them, they would undoubtedly end up on a car chase and in jail, or at least get one of those damned expensive tickets.

On the other hand…

An evil grin spread over her face.

_I'm in. _That was enough.

_Yay! He says to be at his hotel at seven._

America glanced at the time. 6:30. She pranced to her room and threw on a pair of short-shorts and a Lynryd Skynyrd t-shirt, brushed out her hair, and splashed water on her face.

Her Ford pickup was waiting outside on the gravel driveway. She grabbed the keys from her desk drawer and flew out the door, hopped in, and soon was flying down the highway.

The wind cooled her face and whipped her hair everywhere. She stared at the flat fields of soybeans rolling by and the endless row of telephone poles, wondering what was exactly in store for her.

She glanced out the window, and all her thoughts froze.

A white scarf flashed by in seemingly slow motion. A long, brown coat.

Blood.

America pulled over to the side of the road, absentmindedly grabbing a bottle of water from the passenger compartment and floating out the car to the figure lying in the ditch.

She knelt down and turned the man over. Blood flowed over her hands, sticky on the rough cloth.

Russia's glazed, almost-white eyes focused on her, barely conscious.

"Car hit….you've come to…finish me off, yes?" Then his head lulled and his pale eyelids closed shut.

**A/N: Cliffhanger. Sorta. Review? New chapter out soon. **


	4. Cold War Memories

Lines became mountains and fell again to plains on the monitor.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

America stood beside Russia's sleeping form, watching his chest rise slowly and fall slowly. He seemed so peaceful now, so disconnected from the storms of society and the people who caused them.

That peacefulness only brought back vengeful memories covered with ice.

America closed her eyes and swallowed, a burning feeling sliding and sticking down her throat. The film of her mind became covered with white snow and gray skies.

The year had been 1991, when the Soviet Union's house of cards had come tumbling down off the playing table. Eastern Europe had rebelled. The Cold War was finally simmering down, as Russia was losing influence fast and gaining scrutiny quickly. America had flown out to the enormous country herself, just to find her defeated rival.

She found Russia lying in the snow.

She knelt down and touched his forehead. It was burning with fever and defeat. Snowflakes clung to his pale eyelashes, and his eyes had turned whiter than even those.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, saying nothing.

Then, she had leaned down and kissed him.

Through the taste of sickness and ashes, she could feel his desperation and loss; how badly he wanted someone, anyone, to tell him it was going to be alright. That the pain would end.

He tried to scoot closer, but as soon as he did, she pulled away from him. America smiled ruefully and whispered to him but two words:

"I won."

She stood up and walked away, feeling his eyes bore into her back. And that was the last she ever saw of Soviet Russia.

Sometimes, she thought how things could have gone differently. Maybe she could've lingered a few moments longer; helped him up onto his feet. That hadn't occurred to her. At that time, she was bitter because of everything he had done. How many nights she had labored to keep him at bay. How many times he tried to knock her down. She felt a deep, burning hate towards that smiling face.

And she was sure Russia felt likewise.

The door to Russia's room opened. Spain, Italy, Prussia, and France flounced in, looking slightly out of it.

"Why zhank you, nurse! We won't disappoint you-," France called out the door in a singsong voice.

"We heard what happened, bella," Italy stared at the bandages on Russia's head. "Russia got hit by a car, right?"

America nodded grimly.

A man in a sterile-looking coat and deep creases by his eyes strolled in. Everyone looked at him expectantly.

"I'm Doctor Greene. Your friend here had some pretty deep head wounds and bruises. There was some internal bleeding too. We got 'im patched up. I think he'll be good as new in a few days, but there will be some scarring. He's just lucky to be alive."

_Damn straight he is, _America said to herself.

She went outside; felt a cool evening breeze cross the town. America walked to Main Street and took a seat on the outdoor patio of her favorite grill (which had been in business since 1945), and ordered a burger.

"America! I mean, Amelia!" Italy ran up to the patio, waving wildly. "You left so quickly after we came! Are you still going with us?"

"I'm going to have to take a pass on that," America replied. "Something…came up."

The excitable little Italian nodded earnestly.

"I understand, bella. I will just tell France, Spain, and Prussia that you had to go at the last minute.

"Thanks, dude." Italy was already skipping away.

America leaned back in her chair. In that hospital, staring at Russia's blood-drained face, she had felt a pang in the back of her gut. Almost like…pity.

She laughed silently. Russia wouldn't want her pity, and she wouldn't want his.

They were enemies, and that was how she liked it.

**A/N: Russia-centric chapter, because we all love him. Don't worry, we'll get back to normal stuff next chapter. I'm busy, so this may not update for a while. Comments? Criticism?**


	5. An Unexpected Visit

_A few days later..._

Britain sipped tea out of an elegant china cup, reading _A Genius for Deception_ with piqued interest.

_Ah, the double-crossing ways of the intelligence service._

It was an awfully dreary day outside his London home-rainy and cold, as usual.

Britain was interrupted by a tiny fist knocking at the window and a tiny voice calling to open it. Violet Fairy was standing on the windowsill, looking just a bit miserable. Britain immediately unlatched the window, allowing the little soaked fairy to hop in.

"Violet Fairy! What were you doing out in this dreadful weather? I have some napkins…here, that's all better…" said Britain, wiping water off her doll-like face.

"Thank you, Britain." Violet Fairy wrung out her wings. "I wanted to talk to you, so I flew over…naturally, it started raining…"

"Very unfortunate," Britain paused, "but I know you would only be here if there was something very dire."

Violet Fairy took a deep breath.

"Well, Britain, the fairies…four of them have disappeared recently, and we can't trace them anywhere." Violet Fairy clasped her hands together. "And we mean anywhere."

"That's serious," Britain remarked, and immediately got up and started looking behind the bookshelf for his wand. "Who disappeared?"

"Black Fairy, Snow Fairy, Aurora Fairy, and Moon Fairy. The Aloof Group, as we call them. I don't think it's just them being floaty jerks, either—I think someone's targeting them." The fairy looked grim.

Just then, Britain's phone rang.

Violet Fairy hopped over to look at it. It was a text from someone called America, short and grammatically incorrect.

_Sup Brtn! Im in Europe. Wnderng if u wanted 2 hang out._

"Hey, Britain. Your girlfriend texted you." Violet Fairy giggled.

Britain's ears went red and he snatched the phone up from the table. He was clenching his wand.

_Not now, America, _he texted back. _I'm busy._

_Come on dude. Wld it kill u 2 stop wrkng and b cool 4 once? Wats so imprtnt anyway? _America responded almost immediately.

_I'm looking for an important friend. That is what is so important. _Britain told her. It wasn't exactly a lie, but America would call him crazy if he told her he was looking for fairies.

_U nvr wnt 2 hang out. im rly brd man. If nthng else, can i help u fnd ur friend? _

Britain had to think on that one for a moment. Putting America with fairies could be dangerous, but then again, she couldn't see them. America could also be annoying and loud, but also talented, strong, and strategic.

_Fine. As long as you don't make too much of a racket. You can meet me at my house. Be quick about it; I don't have much time._

America didn't respond. Britain sighed, turned off his phone, and put it in his pocket. He hoped she had gotten his message, and duly noted it.

Britain held his wand out in front of him. It glowed blue and sparked, sending immense power down his arm and the whispers of battles and defeats in the past.

_It's been quite some time since I held you, _Britain thought to his wand. The glow turned green.

_Hopefully I still know how to command you._

_...  
_

A/N:_ Sorry the update took so long. Reviews? Critique? All are welcome. A Genius for Deception is a very informative book written on the British intelligence services and strategies as well as the various camouflage techniques and their history used in the World Wars. It's a very good book. I recommend it to anyone who's interested in that subject.__  
_


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